Throwing a Name
by reminiscent-afterthought
Summary: [AU] His wants may change with the circumstances, but he always got what he wanted. Though she might have bested him if he hadn't long since cast aside his heart and his humanity.


**A/N:** Written for the Yugioh Fanfiction Contest, Season 11 Round 4, for Lonershipping (Mai x Thief King Bakura). I had to cut/summarise quite a bit of the story, because of the interests of time, but hopefully the story still comes across solidly enough.

* * *

**Throwing a Name**

When a job offered no interest to him, he subtracted a small portion of the pay as commission and offered the rest to another, along with his name. With this, there were several benefits: he didn't have to get his hands dirty in unsatisfactory work in which he had, ultimately, nothing to gain; he could laugh at the utter stupidity of the King's court in sending out their best guards to stop him while he sat comfortably in his lair and another snuck past; and he could watch the scum of the world rise just a little higher while the polished gold of "respectable" folk blackened in the sun.

The downside was that failed jobs dragged his name through the mud unless he rectified the problem, a feat far more difficult because of the heightened security that was sure to be present. But no job was impossible for the Thief King, and while he swore to himself at every step, he would show success at the end of it – often with his client being none the wiser about any such details. After all, they hired the Thief King, and it was the Thief King which brought them their request and took their payment with ring-stubbed hands.

Sometimes though, there was a prize he found delectable, and then he'd decline the job completely and utterly. After all, his desired trinkets would do no good in the grubby arms of a client, no matter what the price they offered. And it was always entertaining to watch the lesser rats try to climb steps to high for them.

It just so happened that he had been approached with such a job. From a fine customer no less, and it pained his hard heart to reject the generous offer the man made in return. But the blue beetle, that of the nameless Pharaoh, was a priceless thing and the moment he heard of its location, he knew he had to have it for himself.

'It's impossible,' he said carelessly when the man whined and whinged. 'The tomb of a live Pharaoh would normally be quite easy to break into, but this one is protected by the _Gods_.'

The man quaked in fear at his feet, and the Thief King resisted the urge to spit. He continued his little string of a tale instead. 'After all, the Gods have favoured our dear nameless Pharaoh, have given him the power to burn villages with one hand and light up his palace with the other. They've given him the power to bring his fist down upon any transgressor of his name.' He cackles at that, for what good was that when no-one even knew the Pharaoh's name. If he didn't have a personal grudge against him himself, he would think the current Pharaoh was a fake.

But his dear customer appeared to have no head upon his body for he quaked in fear still. The Thief King snorted, then stepped down from his throne. 'I trust you'll be wise,' he said, more evenly. 'Stealing from the Nameless Pharaoh is beset only by stealing from the Gods themselves. Not even I stoop that low.'

He did, in fact, but this lowly man didn't need to know that. He preferred to keep his secrets to himself.

* * *

The Harpie Queen twisted a long lock of hair around her finger as she thought. The offer was a tempting one, she had to admit. It wasn't often a King's Ransom came her way, and she was one of the best in the business as well.

_It's all the fault of the Thief King_, she grumbled to herself. All the good jobs went to him first after all, and the rejects were sifted elsewhere. Mostly into her lap, though with her reputation she could afford to be choosy as well. Particularly when the men who brought them were…distasteful.

The current customer was quite fortunate; his shaking knees made him appear more a fool than anything else. But a fool with a good amount of money and information to offer, lucky because the money was just as tantalising as the information. Many would kill for the information of the Nameless Pharaoh's tomb, a prize worth far more than a King's Ransom – but not her.

She was in the favour of the Pharaoh after all, and to steal from him would be a betrayal of his trust. Except…the Thief King had piqued her interest, and she had heard the tales, of how the best jobs and the worst were turned away, and the best always failed.

_No doubt he wants the Goods himself_. She considered, hair twirling around her finger as the man before her stirred in impatience. Her body twitched as well, discomforted by her thoughts. It really was the perfect chance to catch him…but how? And then what? 'You've got yourself a deal,' she said finally. 'But I want the payment in advance.'

She felt almost sorry when she saw his eager face. But she'd get her King's Ransom, a certain Thief King would get a butt-kicking, and the Pharaoh would keep his sacred beetle. If a petty little man lost out because of that…well, that was tough luck for him.

* * *

He chewed a reed stick to pass the time, watching the desert sand dance wildly outside. His mind was not idle though; part of him watched over the humble abode he'd built for himself, of the followers and treasures he'd amassed for himself within. But it was a simple enough task; magic was a far sharper and more reliable friend than a regular guard, and he hoped by now people knew not to steal or double-cross the Thief King.

It was sad though that people remained ignorant to the lessons of old; things taught once had to be repeated over and over again, and still someone found themselves with a toe out of line without considering the consequences. It were these moments that the Thief King let a sense of regret wash over him, because some of those people were his treasures as well after all, and it was a shame to discard of them.

But the rings of magic that he'd cast long ago were the best sentinels one could wish for, and the Thief King had nothing to fear within his own domain. Thus, his eyes made just lazy sweeps over the floors, never staying long enough to watch.

The rest of his mind was occupied with more important matters. Namely, that blue beetle.

A grin spread across his face at the thought, and gold bangles clanged on his ankle as the movement rippled to his feet. It was the perfect revenge, really, and the opportunity had just fallen into his lap. It was little surprising, and disappointing, that he had happened to stumble upon the whereabouts of the hidden tomb so easily…but thieves weren't people who looked horses in the mouth. Rather, they'd take the entire body if they could carry it.

And he most certainly could carry an insignificant little beetle. Insignificant to him rather, for he had long since stopped believing in the Nameless Pharaoh, or the Gods, or an afterlife. But the blue beetle was a sacred thing to the believers, and he could think of few better things to do as revenge.

And if it was his occupation as a thief that made it so, then all the better.

* * *

He heard his client had recovered his little fright and delegated the task to another after all. He had hoped he wouldn't; good people in the business were hard to come by, and he didn't want to lose potential friends in such an adventure. But he was also a jealous little thing who guarded his treasures and pride with both sword and magic, and his pride especially was something very easily tainted.

Though he had to admit he was curious.

He waited till the blackest hour, where the amateur thief snuck out and made their catch, then waited a little more. What easier way to bypass security than to let the dirty work be done by someone else after all? And the cover of darkness was still strong, when the guards in undisturbed nights grew complacent once the dangerous time had passed. Fools, the whole lot of them, thinking they could outwit _him_.

And so he walked from his shadows and into the light, the appearance of an innocent child thief on the streets, searching for a quick bronze coin. It was a glamour he had long since perfected, a glamour built of a boy he had once known, once been…

But that was in the past, and now he was just the cold-hearted Thief King who had the Underworld wrapped around his little finger. And an easy job it was too, walking the lap of luxury while unknowing fools lay the stone beneath his feet.

And, as he had expected, the way was empty of guards and traps. He saw the occasional unconscious body, or the brick moved aside, or a shattered statue, but it was simply a broken defence he couldn't help but feel disappointed with.

'Really, Pharaoh,' he said aloud, finding the empty sarcophagus exactly where it had been said. 'I'm disappointed.'

'Oh, are you?' a sharp voice said, followed by the sound of a whip flying through the air.

The Thief King smirked; it was aimed for the side of his head, or rather, the glamour's head. His true self was taller, and so it would strike the empty air beside his neck. And so it did, and he caught the whip before it could fly back again.

'The Harpie Queen,' he said conversationally. 'I was hoping for a lesser fool.'

'Oh, were you?' she asked, stepping into the torchlight, her violet cloak washing out the flickers of orange shadow. 'Shall I take that as a compliment, _Thief King_?'

He smirked at the title. 'I think you should.' The Thief King gave a soft yank, and the whip game; the woman had let it go. A smart move, as a harder yank would have brought her along with her little weapon. 'I must say I'm a little…sad.'

'Oh?' she raised an eyebrow behind her mask, stepping closer. Dust rose up where her boots stepped and her cloak swept, and by the time she had halved the distance between them the cloud had blanketed her entirely.

The Thief King took out his pipe and lit it with the flame of the torch, taking a puff and letting the smoke do the rest. Two could play at that game after all.

After a moment of silence, he spoke again. 'I'm disappointed,' he repeated, 'because you are a fine thief.'

'Oh, please.' The woman snorted, striding forth and throwing her dust-cloak to the winds. 'The only person you think of as "fine" is you.'

'Frank.' The Thief King set both torch and pipe safely down. 'I like that.'

The Harpie Queen scowled at him.

'Still…we are both here for something, yes?'

'I believe we are,' the woman replied, her eyes finding the discarded whip and measuring the distance between them, finding it too far. 'And not the same thing.'

'Oh, really?' He smirked. 'Let's just say I'm a petty thief –'

'Don't insult my intelligence,' the woman snapped at him. 'Only the Thief King would be so confident to walk in here armed only with magic and a pipe.'

'You have sharp eyes as well,' the man noted. 'A shame, really. I would have liked to have you in my service.'

Still hanging on to her pretence, the woman looked disgusted by the thought. 'I'm sure you can find a better woman.'

'Ah.' This time, it was he who stepped closer and she who kept her spot. 'But no other woman would be so bold as to meet the Thief King alone.'

She crossed her arms. 'You are quite intimidating, Thief King,' she said in a low voice. 'But you will find that I am not easily intimidated.'

'Because you have the favour of the Pharaoh?' The Thief King asked, turning to the sarcophagus. 'I knew the man was a fool, but this has far exceeded my expectations.'

His peel of laughter echoed through the chamber, and the woman stiffened. 'How do you know of that?' she whispered.

'Dear sweet lady.' His laughter grew, and she fought the urge to back away. 'You think such knowledge is beyond me? Even this place – ' And here he spread his arms as if he could hold it all. ' – would have been found eventually even without the man that brought it to me.' He let the laughter die, then regarded her again. 'So what is your plan? To hand me over, nicely trussed, to your little Pharaoh? Or to chop of my head yourself? Or flee in fear?'

She drew in the edges of her cloak closer and stepped forward. 'None of those things,' she said quietly. 'I had something else in mind.' And she dropped her cloak at his feet.

* * *

She wasn't naïve enough to think she could beat him in a fight, but she had greater strengths and she hoped that, despite all, he still had the same weaknesses as any other man. She hoped, she feared – because she knew she had risked a lot in coming alone. But she also knew his sharp eyes would have spotted a conscious guard before they'd have had a chance.

She hated the thought of another having such power over her, of drawing her life in strings as he did to all thieves who could not share his fame. And he didn't share his seat of King with anyone; the lesser thieves – even she who had come as close as a Queen – could not run their business without customers passing by _him_ first.

Second best; that was all they could ever be, but he couldn't be infallible. And she was the Harpie Queen after all, the woman who could ensnare almost any man in her web and undo them. Her immediate plan was to drown his mind and body with the pleasure of her own, until the predator within him slept and the Pharaoh's guards approached. An easy plan it would be as well, but the moment he had turned to her she knew how high the possibility of failure was.

And she would have to sacrifice everything she had for a second shot.

* * *

She had no innate magic in her, and for all her cunning she lacked the strength to back it up. She may have succeeded in keeping him, he mused, if he were a lesser man, one not guarded by his magic from such immature spells as could be purchased from a market stall. But no surprise had caught the Thief King yet, and he thought they never will.

Still, he drew her face up and caught the moist lips in the light, smeared carefully with that mix of rose, peppermint and moonstone that could create one of the most powerful love potions in the world. A sneaky, underhand trick he had to applaud her for, for even the Pharaohs of old would have fallen for it until magic entered their blood. But the poor woman had no way of knowing what magic did to him, because she had none of it herself. And she would never know, never know that her effort and careful planning had been a waste before she had even begun – because there was not a trick that could catch him unaware.

'Tell me,' he whispered, breath tickling her sun-kissed face. 'What did you come her for, if not to steal from your Pharaoh?'

She parted her mouth; his magic caught her lips and her tongue and bound them to him. Too easily; she had dropped her guard far too much to capture him, and now she would pay the price for it. He was disappointed, but she would be a valuable minion to add to his already vast collection. Not many possessed the hardness it took to open themselves up to a man to take what lay behind them.

'You,' she said slowly, softly, forcibly. 'I came here for you.'

'Oh, did you?' he asked in delight, capturing her in his arms. 'Then why don't you show me a little of that boldness I've come to know you for?'

He dropped her; she hit the dirt floor and rolled back to her feet, standing back up straight in the time it took to fetch his pipe again.

'Play a game with me,' she said to him, voice now shaking between rage, distress and something else. Her lips were now dry, and her cheeks two blotches of red in the flickering light.

'Why?' he asked coyly. 'You've already lost.'

She forced a smirk on her face. 'But you haven't won.'

The blue beetle continued to sleep within the sarcophagus.

* * *

He entertained her with her game, for she was right when she said he hadn't won. It wasn't a victory when the loser surrendered after all, but he won her over in the end. It left a stain upon the tomb of the Nameless Pharaoh far more deep and rich than stealing the sacred beetle could have ever been…though he was sure he would return should boredom ever seize him hence.

She was a very entertaining woman to have on hand; she refused to cry, or break, and each new time he took her was as satisfying at the last. She whispered no words of sweet deluded love to him, and he spared no gentleness for her.

And they entered a new game like that, a game she threw everything of herself into and he took it all and more. He had to admit she had surprised him a little with her plan, and it might have worked if his anger towards the Nameless Pharaoh had not taken his heart and turned him into the Devil.


End file.
